


say it's getting easy

by Voido



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt & Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, pegoryuweek2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 07:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20485220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voido/pseuds/Voido
Summary: Months after the Phantom Thieves defeated a God and saved the world, it's still true that some things never change.Like the welcoming booths in Café Leblanc.Or Ryuji's wish to flee from reality.PegoRyu-week day 1: It's not rocket science.





	1. down

**Author's Note:**

> _Uhh, happy PegoRyu-week? As always, I'm a procrastinating little bish, so who's surprised that I'm posting at 4:30 in the morning? No one, that's who._   
_Mentioned in the tags, but this is a post-canon fic (based on the true ending, and with Akira staying in Tokyo like he's meant to because that's where he belongs, sorry not sorry)._   
_Shoutout to everyone creating all that fluffy, nice, warm content of these two so far here as well as over on twitter and tumblr, because I, as always, find myself drawn to creating pain. I owe you guys._

“It’s not rocket science, Ryuji!”

The words hit him in the gut for a handful of reasons, and he needs a second to figure out which is the worst. It sucks because he knows—yeah, no, it really _ isn__’t _ rocket science, not at all. Then there’s the tone in which Ann says it to him, like he’s an absolutely lost case if there’s ever been one; which in itself is the worst because she already isn’t a genius whatsoever, so what does it say about him that even she finds him extremely dumb?

He does what he always does—looks up to give her a piece of mind, anything thats loud and sounds like he doesn’t care the tiniest bit; instead of Ann, though, he finds Makoto’s eyes first, and she’s staring him down with all the impatience she can physically pile up in her eyes, wordlessly daring him to try and say another word instead of just getting back to studying.

They’re all gathered in one booth in Leblanc—the three of them and Akira, that means—with Yusuke at the counter sipping coffee, and Futaba in the next booth typing on her laptop, both of them occasionally commenting on the quality of their studying, and fitting in a biting remark or two on how they should appreciate Makoto taking valuable time to private teach them a bit more. At one point, Futaba oh-so-innocently murmured about how she wonders why Haru isn’t here with them, and that she can’t imagine anything more fun than wasting one’s time on three lost causes.

Two lost causes, since Akira is already playing with a streak of hair in what looks like a fit of boredom, petting Morgana on the head who’s lying in his lap and dropping off surprisingly few rude comments today, but Ryuji isn’t gonna bring that up just to provoke it.

Things were fine there, somehow, but now he’s officially been catapulted into the reality of being the only lost cause—

“_It’s not rocket science, Ryuji!”_

—and it bothers him _so_ much more than he can admit without starting a fight or damaging his own fragile pride even more. So he swallows it down, bites his lip and doesn’t dare say a single word while Makoto still looks him down with that death stare of hers, but it lingers on his mind, leaves him unable to think, and to say that the following hour of trying to hammer mathematics into his brain isn’t _successful_ would be the understatement of the year.

In total, the whole day is a major pile of trash. Which is great, because so was the previous day of studying, and of course the one before that. With each day passing by, Ryuji can’t help but wonder if it’s true—if he really _ is _ an absolutely lost cause, if he should just give up and bury himself in video games until the middle of the night, because, well, at least he’s _ good _ at that. At one point, he’s close to getting up and just leaving, approximately a second after Morgana _ does _ say something rude to him out of nowhere — _ ”do you even _ try _ not to be an idiot? _ _ ” _—but he’s quickly stopped by a hand on his shoulder, before even managing to get up. He frowns, looks over and stares into Akira’s unreadable face, watches him push up his glasses and shake his head shortly. It’s not perfect, and it doesn’t undo the comment the stupid cat really felt the need to pull, but it’s enough to convince Ryuji to settle back in his seat, take a deep breath and focus on his messy notes again.

Not like they’re any messier than the confusion on his mind.

He’s not sure when it started. His grades were always mediocre at the very best, so that doesn’t surprise him. Still, he’s gotten through all of his previous exams fine enough, in his own opinion—passing is passing, right? Yet this time, he feels himself panicking, knows he’s in actual trouble even though, or maybe exactly because he’s trying. It’s one thing to fail after giving up on studying, but failing after actually attempting to force the knowledge into his mind and simply being unable to…

It’s pretty hard to take. Even just the thought of it.

“Ohh, we should stop and get some sweets as a reward,” Ann suddenly says, stretching and trying her best smile on Makoto, who frowns but eventually gives in. It’s already past three in the afternoon, and they’ve been at it since the morning, so Ann _does_ have a point. It’s still a bit frustrating that from all the hours he’s been sitting here, the only three things Ryuji remembers are the way everyone stared him down whenever he complained about a really damn hard question, the stupid comments he got, and the look Akira gave him while stopping him from storming off.

School material? Negative.

“I think I’ll head home,” he says before anyone can start moving, already shoving stuff into his bag. “Stuff to do for my mom, and don’t want’er to worry, y’know.”

It’s…only partly a lie. There’s always _ something _ he can help his mother with, because she works so much. Sure, there’s nothing specific he needs to get done today or anything, but that’s details he deems unnecessary explaining to the rest of the group, and this time, he’s gotten out of the booth before anyone gets the chance to stop him. He does not, however, manage to flee before being confronted about his sudden attitude.

“Running away isn’t gonna help you not fail.”

Faintly, just before the door closes, he thinks he hears Akira’s voice reprimanding the cat for saying it, but Ryuji is already busy forcing himself to focus on running the few meters to the station instead of thinking, so he fails to catch what _ exactly _ his best friend says.

Not like it matters much.

After all, he can’t deny that Morgana’s right. Running away isn't going to help him not fail.

And yet...

It's the only thing he's good at.


	2. mend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _4:30 yesterday, 5:30 today...I think it's safe to say I'm a lost cause. :)))_

The cure always comes at some point, a mental salve that mends the pain and almost makes it seem like it was never there to begin with. It takes a while this time around, but that’s entirely Ryuji’s own fault—he goes the rest of the weekend without talking to anyone, blocks every attempt at contact claiming he really_ , really _ needs to focus on his studies right now; which he tries, he does! Although at the end of the day, he’s not sure how much it does to help him. During exams themselves, he can easily evade his friends, too, even if he does feel a bit bad each time he somehow catches Akira’s eye in the hallway before either of them has to disappear into their classroom.

It’s a farce, and it’s not a pretty one, but the worst part is—they _ both _ know. It’s not like there’s any doubt about how wrong this whole situation is, and with each single passing day, the moment where Ryuji can’t hide behind exams anymore draws closer. He wouldn’t say that he’s _ scared _ of Akira; being confronted by him is nothing like being confronted by an angry Makoto. He’s not fierce and intimidating.

No.

Actually, it’s way worse than that, because instead of angry, he’ll be disappointed. He’ll remark on how there was no point running from their eventual meeting, and how these kinds of problems don’t go away by pretending that they aren’t even there in the first place. He never says it like that, but it’s what he conveys with whatever words he manages to come up, whenever something like this happens. Because it’s happened before…more than once.

Even though he knows it to get worse with each second he evades it, Ryuji flees into the train, well aware that Akira, whose eyes he met less then ten seconds ago, will catch up and find a way to find _ him _ —screw the wagon being packed, if he has a mission, he’s going to carry it out, and Ryuji supposes that the message he saw after waking up— _ ”we need to talk today” _ —can undoubtedly be considered such a _ mission _ of sorts.

He dreads it, to say the very least. Keeps staring at his feet pretending to not notice his surroundings, even though he does, even though he feels people getting shoved around just so this one idiot can get his point across and stop him from running any further, any longer.

It’s fucking stupid…and Ryuji fights down the urge to smile because of the lengths that Akira is willing to take for something as pointless as catching up to him in a train wagon in which they can’t talk anyway; it’s full, it’s loud, and it’s definitely the very last place in which he wants to be confronted about both his failed friendships and his failed exams, another fact they’re both aware of.

His blood boils, he’s nervous and his hands get sweaty. Although he knows he doesn’t have to be _ actually _ scared, that’s easier thought than executed, and he panics during the whole two seconds—which feel like _ hours _ , for the record —of Akira's hand reaching up and finally grabbing into his shoulder, only for that fit of panic to disappear into thin air right after, almost immediately. Pathetic as it feels, he’s craved the touch, nails digging through fabric into his skin, and the body inching closer, making it look as if they’re whispering something to each other, even though they’re not. The simplicity of wordless support, of warmth in the little space between them, all of that reminds him that not everything is horrible as long as he doesn’t _ let it _.

“Sorry,” is the only thing he manages to get out, and he’s slightly more relieved than he’d admit when Akira presses their foreheads together and shakes his head so shortly that no one around them could’ve even noticed, even if they paid attention.

They get off the train together without a word, reach Shujin without a word, split to go in the direction of their separate classes without a word. With anyone else, it would probably feel mechanic, wrong and cold, but with Akira, it emits nothing but a sense of freedom for Ryuji—like being with him always does, really. He doesn’t text in class, but he does steal a look at his phone here and there, sees that there’s messages in the not-PT-anymore group chat—a _ lot _ of messages—and decides that he’s not ready to catch up on that.

On what, he wonders for a second, before it rains down on him; he can’t yet face what he’s missed, and he can’t yet deal with how little his absence most likely bothered anyone in the long run. It’s fine, really. After all, it’s a group chat for a good reason; they can’t always all be there. Especially Makoto and Haru text less in there now than they did when they still attended Shujin as well. It’s totally…

Okay, it’s not fine. It’s absolutely not fine because unlike all of them, Ryuji can’t claim to have at least a handful of other friends to talk to, or any legitimate reason to talk to no one at all. Well, unless spending more than a full week of afternoons alone and frustrated, staring at the ceiling and thinking of other times, _ better _ times maybe, counts as such a _ legitimate reason _. He doesn’t even know which is worse; being apart from the group for such a comparatively long time, or suddenly having to fall back in. Having to, as in having not much of a choice, he supposes, but that thought also gives him a headache so he tries to avoid it.

Until lunch break hits. And, oh boy, does it hit.

He’s barely out of the class room when he’s grabbed by the elbow and pulled along in such a quick fashion that it’d look like a kidnapping, if not for the fact that at this point, everyone knows that this dude is his best friend—the sole upside of being two guys who people negatively talk about whenever they get the hint of a chance. Ryuji barely even hears Ann’s voice calling after them—_ ”where are you going?!” _—before they’re already up half a flight of stairs in the direction of…

Oh.

They reach the rooftop without exchanging any sort of explanation, and Ryuji patiently watches Akira pick the lock with some kind of divine finesse, before leading them both outside. After the previous school year ended, the place was locked down again, probably because no one deemed it necessary to pick up Haru’s hard work up here, so it feels a little odd to suddenly be standing here, in the place where a little more than a year ago, their whole Phantom Thief adventure started.

It’s…nostalgic, almost. Ryuji isn’t very sure if he likes it or not, but he doesn’t get to make up his mind, because Akira nods over to where there’s still a handful of old desks lying, wasted by the weather day after day, but still good enough to sit on, and gets a move on, whole-heartedly expecting Ryuji to follow anyway.

Which, obviously, he does.

It’s awkward, mostly because it _ isn__’t _ awkward, and that makes him a bit uncomfortable. He supposes that he should feel a bit more sheepish, maybe even _ bad _ after avoiding and basically not talking to his best friend in over a whole damn week, but nothing about Akira’s presence gives him the feeling that he needs to be. They simply sit, on the best-looking table of the bunch, bodies touching from shoulders to knees, and stare ahead as if the answers to all unspoken questions lie somewhere in the sky above them, somewhere in the middle of this ruthless world they’ve been thrown into.

It feels good, for a while, not having to say anything, not having to justify his actions and non-actions and not being judged for either, but with each passing minute, it turns into a burden, dead weight lying on Ryuji’s shoulders and pushing him further and further down into the pit he has, somewhere along the way, thrown himself into. And when it finally overwhelms him enough that he wants to say _ something _ to fix things, he catches himself unable to put it into words—how much it means to him that he’s not alone right now, that this time, or any time ever since he’s met Akira, he hasn’t been abandoned like a pile of garbage. He wants to—wants to explain how grateful he is, how much even this wordless encounter means, how it’s enough to make him believe that things can get better again.

So what if he doesn’t feel like a part of the group, now that they don’t fight scary monsters in a supernatural second world anymore?

So what if he doesn’t believe in his own abilities and doesn’t trust himself to ever get any of his shit together?

So what if he’ll never be good enough to deserve this friendship he was somehow blessed with a year ago?

He doesn’t say any of those things—because he doesn’t know how, but also because he’s aware that Akira already knows all of it. Ryuji doesn’t bring any of it up, yet he still gets an answer to it. That’s what it’s all about, he thinks—the fact that he gets answers to questions he wouldn’t ever dare put into something as fragile as words.

There’s a hand on his back; subtle, but firm. No motion, no supportive rubs to make him feel better. He appreciates it, because he doesn’t want to be solaced—he isn’t even sad, at least not in this very moment. He can admit he was, and there’s no doubt he will be again, but as of this exact moment, he’s at peace; with himself, with the world.

“We’ll work this out together,” Akira proposes, no, _orders_ in that no-bullshit tone of his, dead serious while equally passionate about it. He means it, puts his whole heart into it even if the look on his face doesn’t give it away—until it does, his lips slightly curling up into a smile before he nods and pushes up his glasses.

It doesn’t make everything okay again—Ryuji doubts that anything could. But those few words, the simplicity of them sitting up here together, the sheer dedication burning in Akira’s eyes like a fire that can’t be tamed…

All of that is enough. Reminds him that there’s good in the bad, that the sun _ will _ rise even after the darkest of nights, that there’s never no way out no matter how lost he feels. Because now, after years of getting used to it, he’s no longer alone.He’s no longer dealing with the pain, or accepting it.

He’s healing.


End file.
